


A Lonely Christmas Eve

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:45:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lonely night for Ray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lonely Christmas Eve

Ray Doyle shifted in his chair to alleviate some of the pain in his hip and thigh. The wind rattled the shutters outside the window where he sat. Movement out on the lawn, a dark spot shifting amongst the white winter blanket, caught his eye. A fleeting impression. A trace of recognition? No. Bo – No, no one would be out in this weather. His eyes were playing tricks on him. 

He hunched forward and put his head in his hands. How long had he been here? Only six weeks, but it seemed like years. He counted back the time. Two months since he’d been shot, two weeks in hospital, and then he’d been moved here. Repton. Because he’d had nowhere else to go. No one else to look after him and, according to the doctors, he couldn’t be on his own. That much was true. Until his hip healed and he could learn to walk again, he was stuck here. 

Damn Bodie. Seven weeks since he’d seen the bastard. But that was mostly his own fault. He’d been surprised, and truthfully, more than a little hurt, when Bodie had agreed with Dr Shore that Ray needed to spend some time at Repton for rehab. It had felt like abandonment. Bodie knew he hated hospitals. They’d always taken care of each other after injuries, why was this time different? Wincing at the memory of the Doyle temper in full bloom and the words he’d thrown at his partner, he shut his eyes tightly against the hot burn. 

If he was honest with himself, Bodie had been spot on. There was no way the two of them could have managed the care he’d required right out of hospital. But he hadn’t seen it then. All he’d seen was Bodie not wanting to be burdened with is incapacitated partner. Bodie’s explanations fell on deaf ears. He’d accused Bodie of all manner of selfish behaviour and Bodie had finally got angry and lashed out in turn. His parting words stung Ray with their truth and he was left to “wallow in his own self-pity.” Bodie hadn’t come back.

He laughed bitterly. The one thing his mum had been right about – his temper did get him into trouble, had cost him dearly, had finally cost him Bodie.

His wallowing was interrupted by a knock on the door. One of the volunteer sisters asked, “Would you like to join the others? We’re getting ready to share the Christm...”

He turned to face her, the pain in his eyes stopping her words.

“Or maybe you’d just like to stay here? Would you like me to bring you some tea?”

He forced a small smile for her – wasn’t her fault he was here, no point in making her feel bad too.

“Ta.”

She hurried from the room and his gaze returned to the storm blowing outside. Snow and the last of fall’s tenacious leaves finally freed from their branches blew across the window, dancing in the gusts of wind. Free. Graceful. Moving as fate and the wind chose. Fate had chosen a different path for Raymond Doyle. He slammed a hand down on one of the wheels of his chair. Reaching down he pulled the plug on the fairy lights leaving only the moons reflection on the white snow to illuminate the room. Bitter bile rose to choke him, causing a paroxysm of coughing.

“Here – get this down you. It’ll help.”

He hadn’t heard her come back into the room. She said nothing about the room’s darkness. She handed him a mug.

He sipped at the tea. It was hot and warmed his lips and tongue and throat as he swallowed it. But there were places inside him it couldn’t reach, places that would never be warmed again.

He looked up at the sister and raised the mug. “Thanks, luv.”

She smiled at him. The silence grew uncomfortable. 

“Why don’t you go join the others?” Taking pity on her, he tipped his head towards the room down the hallway and the happy noises emanating from there. “I’ll be fine on me own.”

“You sure?” She seemed reluctant to leave him.

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and nodded. He waited until he heard her soft footsteps leave the room and rolled his chair closer to the window. Clasping the mug tightly to warm his cold hands he studied his reflection in the glass. He looked old, used up. Grey streaked curls surrounded a battered, pale visage. He’d lost weight, the bones in his face stood out starkly under taut skin. A tatty robe covered his upper torso and a patchwork quilt covered his injured legs. It was too much. With a strangled oath he threw the mug across the room.

He heard the sister’s footsteps hurrying back to his room suddenly stop. Muffled whispers were exchanged and then footsteps retreated back down the hallway.

The air in the room was thick with silence and maybe, anticipation. He knew he was no longer alone. Slowly,he raised his head and looked up at the window, knowing what he would see. The reflection of a tall, dark shadow was outlined by the light from the hallway. He felt the knots in his shoulders, the tension that had been with him for weeks, finally relax. He lowered his head, shaking it in resignation, knowing the gesture would be understood for what it was – an apology.

The man came into the room. Glass shards from the broken mug crunched under his feet, drawing out an amused “tsk, tsk”.

Doyle felt a warm hand on his slumped shoulders; felt the gentle kiss placed on the top of his head thaw him all the way down his feet. He sighed with contentment and turned his chair to face his visitor. 

Bodie bent over and picked up the plug for the fairy lights, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

Doyle nodded and the room was once again awash in bright, cheerful, hopeful colour.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tea & Swiss Roll December Amnesty Challenge - Prompts used: blanket, oath, feet, wheel & trace


End file.
